Chapter 8
EIGHT
Beckett Harrington
On Friday, I arrived earlier than everyone else, slipping into the classroom with a careful scan of the seats so I wouldn’t have to sit next to Asher again.
I’d skipped my afternoon coffee on purpose, stopping before my third class instead, eliminating any excuse to linger afterward. No bathroom breaks. No awkward overlap.
The second we were dismissed, I was out the door, backpack half-zipped, heart ticking faster than necessary.
It was unlikely he’d try to approach me, but the weekend loomed like a threat, anyway.
Seeing him at the party, then again tomorrow while he directed Theo and me, already felt like more than enough.
Asher followed me home anyway, uninvited and persistent, slipping into my thoughts while I got ready.
I’d never cared much about what I wore before.
That was before I started fucking two men who’d both be at the same party.
Something restless stirred under my skin, wanting his attention even as it resented him.
Wanting to please him. Wanting to provoke him. Wanting proof that he saw me at all.
I dug through my closet and found a few of Theo’s shirts he’d left behind.
He had taste, expensive and deliberate, and worse, he loved fabrics that invited hands.
Mesh. Lace. I chose a long-sleeved black mesh shirt and tucked it into wide-legged black designer pants, the kind that made my ass look intentional.
It was a far cry from the jeans and T-shirt uniform I wore to drink with rowdy frat boys, but when I caught my reflection, I didn’t look like someone trying. I looked like someone who knew.
The realization hit me as I adjusted the hem.
I’d never tried to impress girls. I hadn’t needed to.
My face, my name, my money had always done the work for me.
But here I was, deliberate and meticulous, dressing for my best friend and my rival.
Maybe because, underneath everything, pleasing people had always been my sharpest instinct.
Even Asher. Especially Asher. The thought soured and thrilled me at the same time, too close to the way I’d chased my father’s approval for years, only to keep coming up short.
“Wow. You look nice for once,” Lucas said when I stepped into the living room, rifling through the console for my keys.
I wasn’t driving. Frat Row was only a few blocks away. Still, I pocketed the apartment key out of habit. My brothers would be asleep when I got back, and I didn’t feel like standing in the hallway, dressed like this, waiting to be let in.
I chuckled, shook my head, and hit his chest with the back of my hand. “Shut up, jackass.”
“You really do look good, seriously. Who are you trying to impress?” Lucas asked, cocking a brow.
Ian finally tuned into the conversation, sliding his headset down to rest against his neck.
He looked me over in slow pieces, then gave an approving nod, his lips pressed together as if he were holding back a comment.
“Looks like you’re going on a first date.
” His gaze lingered, sharp with suspicion.
“Whose shirt even is that?” Lucas asked, tilting his head as if the answer might fall out if he stared long enough. “If it doesn’t have a sports team on it, or a brand name, then it’s not yours.”
He wasn’t wrong. Theo was the one with taste.
People assumed I lived in expensive clothes, but most of my wardrobe was predictable, stamped with logos and athletic cuts.
Nike. Alo. Easy tells. I looked like someone who played sports.
I would have, if I’d been allowed. Dad had shut that down early, saying sports didn’t build careers, that they were a waste of time. End of discussion.
“Theo’s. It’s his style,” Ian answered.
Something low and involuntary rumbled out of my chest, closer to a growl than a sound I meant to make.
Why had Ian noticed what Theo wore? The thought of my brother cataloging my best friend’s clothes twisted something sharp in my gut.
Questions rushed in, uninvited. Had Ian noticed Theo before I had?
“It’s making sense now,” Ian said, chuckling to himself.
“Oh…oh!” Lucas said, eyes widening, posture straightening as realization clicked into place. Whatever our youngest brother was implying, Lucas had just caught up.
“You guys are reading too much into this.” I rolled my eyes and turned away, putting my back to them before my face could betray me.
We weren’t as close as we used to be, but they knew me well enough to sense a shift.
They always had. I wasn’t ready to explain it, though.
Not when I was still figuring it out myself, still testing the edges of what and who I wanted.
At the front door shoe rack, I swapped my usual sneakers for a clean pair of black shoes; the choice deliberate. I patted my pockets. Phone. Keys. Wallet. Then I headed for the door.
“Wrap it up!” Lucas yelled after me.
I didn’t look back.
If only he knew.
I’d left in too much of a rush and forgotten my jacket.
The mesh top did little to keep the cold out, and the ten-minute walk needled at my skin, but I’d lived here long enough not to complain.
Still, relief washed through me when I pushed into the frat house, heat and noise slamming into me at once.
The air was thick with sweat and alcohol.
Bodies crowded the open dance floor, clustered around the beer pong table, and leaned shoulder-to-shoulder at the keg.
Asher had texted that they were on their way in an Uber, so I drifted toward the kitchen, where the island sagged under bottles and plastic cups.
I scanned the lineup, fingers hovering, then grabbed a vodka shooter and a beer.
My hands felt unsteady. Parties had never rattled me before. Tonight, my nerves skittered anyway.
I knocked back the vodka in one go, wincing at the burn clawing down my throat, just as the kitchen began to fill with familiar faces from classes and other nights like this.
“Beckett! Where the hell have you been?” Drew asked.
He was a football player from my business classes, broad and loud, already smiling. He slung an arm around me, tugged me against his chest, and ruffled my hair. Thankfully, the texture spray held, and my waves stayed mostly intact.
“I switched my classes out. No more business,” I answered.
The words landed heavier than I expected.
I wasn’t ready to explain what had really happened, so I lined up an excuse in my head, just in case.
No one here knew my dad had forced me into business.
They all thought I liked it. College was different from high school in that way.
Fewer assumptions. Though most of them had probably seen the headlines by now.
My dad’s face had been everywhere this week.
Another billionaire stealing from the poor.
“Oh, shit. Is this related to your dad getting arrested?” he asked.
One of his teammates smacked his chest. “Dude, you can’t just ask somebody that.”
“No, it’s fine. I got bored with business classes. Decided I didn’t want to do it anymore,” I said, offering a lie wrapped tightly around the truth.
“What are you focusing on now?” he asked.
I looked around for any sign of Theo, waiting to be saved from the conversations I dreaded. I didn’t expect anyone to converse about school while getting drunk at a frat on a weekend.
“Film and science,” I answered. “Uh, I’m going to look for my friend,” I said, excusing myself from the conversation.
Past Beckett would’ve soaked in their attention.
I drifted into the main room and stopped at the edge of the dance floor, positioning myself where I could keep the front door in sight.
The bass thudded through the floor, bodies pressing and swaying in loose clusters.
I should’ve felt relieved to be out here, but the restlessness followed me, anyway.
I barely had time to settle in before a woman stepped into my space.
A week ago, I might’ve clocked her as a potential hookup without thinking twice. “Hey, Beckett,” she said easily. I couldn’t tell if we’d met before or if she just knew my name. “I’m Paige. We haven’t met, but I’ve heard a lot about you.” Color bloomed across her cheeks, soft and pink.
“I might have to disappoint you on what you’ve been told, Paige,” I said, my attention flicking back to the door even as I spoke.
She laughed, quick and genuine. “Oh, no. Sorry. Wrong impression. I’m a lesbian. I’m not hitting on you. You just seemed…sad. And I can relate to being let down by parents.”
Heat crept up my neck. Great. “Did your dad steal millions of dollars from people, too?” I asked, the sarcasm slipping out before I could stop it.
“Nope. Kicked me out when he found a worker’s daughter in my bed, then had her fired and destroyed their lives,” she said.
The words landed hard, knocking the air from my lungs. “Wow…I’m sorry. Shit. I’m coming off as such a dick right now. I’m just on edge, and waiting for my friend to get here. I’m nervous about what people will say if I let them talk to me.”
“Then let’s dance, and everyone will avoid you. Until your friend gets here,” she said, already holding out her hand like the decision had been made.
I took it without thinking. She tugged me closer to the dance floor, where neither of us blended in.
Paige moved with enthusiastic chaos, one hand planted on my shoulder, the other waving her drink overhead as if she didn’t care who saw.
I tried to follow her rhythm and failed spectacularly.
She didn’t mind. If anything, she seemed delighted by it.
“I might be using you for ulterior motives,” she said near my ear.
“And what might those be?” I asked, amused despite myself.
“I have a crush on someone who couldn’t stop bragging about hooking up with you last year.
She’s here. And it must be working because she can’t take her eyes off us.
Probably not the healthiest way to get her attention, I fear.
” Paige giggled, drained the rest of her drink, then looped her arms around my neck like we’d known each other for years.
I scanned the room until I spotted the blonde staring daggers in our direction. She didn’t look familiar, which made my stomach twist. Everyone blurred together after a while. Everyone except Theo. His face was the one thing that never faded.
When I looked back, my pulse stuttered.
Asher stood across the room, frozen in place, his stare locked on me. On us. The air felt tighter, like someone had sucked the oxygen out. I stepped away from Paige without realizing I was doing it, my chest drawing shallow breaths.
Paige followed my gaze, then glanced back at me, her mouth curving into a knowing grin.
“Thanks for dancing with me,” she said, squeezing my hand once before disappearing into the crowd.
Theo wasn’t anywhere in sight. And instead of moving toward Asher, I veered off, heading down the hallway that led to the bedrooms. I needed space.
A second to steady myself. Seeing Asher had hit harder than I expected.
He looked…good. Too good. Like he’d put effort into tonight.
Jealousy burned openly in his eyes, and I didn’t understand why it was there at all.
The bruise on his face caught the light, sharp and ugly, stirring guilt and something far less welcome.
I ducked into the first room I found and shut the door behind me.
“Theo?” I asked when my eyes adjusted, finding him seated on the bed. His eyes were glassy, his expression pulled tight as if he were holding himself together by force.
“Oh, hey Beckett.” He swiped a finger under his eye. “I, uh, needed a second.” He caught his lower lip between his teeth.
I took a step toward him, but didn’t make it far.
The door flew open and slammed shut, and suddenly Asher was there, crowding my space, my back pressed to the wall. His arm pinned near my neck, close enough to feel threatening without actually touching me. “How dare you!” he yelled.
I froze, heart hammering. I’d never seen him like this. Raw. Furious.
And I hadn’t even done anything.